Chapter Thirty-eight

"It started because of my dad's mom," she begins, her voice wavering at the thought of them. Jerome's sitting in the chair to her left with a stoic look. "She was – morbidly obese, and it killed her. I don't hate her for getting like that because, after years of talking to her, I understood why. She was suffering from melancholy. Her husband, my granddad, died trying to get to the hospital when I was born. I never got over it – her passing, then my brother died, and now my dad."

"Wait, what," he speaks, but she's unable to hear him.

"It's like the world is slowly ending, and I can't do anything but sit here and watch," she finishes, then takes a deep breath. She looks at him when he doesn't respond, and with her head tilted confusedly, she mutters, "What?"

"You said your dad died?" Her heart skips a beat, and they silently stare into each other's eyes as they wait for the other to speak. They look ahead when the door creaks open and watch Sheryl walk across the threshold. She has her purse over her shoulder and dark circles under her baggy eyes. "Um, I'll just – I'll see you on campus, Judy."

He stands up and walks past her mother, shutting the door behind him and leaving an awkward silence.

"Your doctor told me about the bottle. I won't get on you about using it, nor will I scold you for stealing it from me and lying about it; I'm drained." Sheryl takes a deep, shaky breath. "It's bad enough that Stevie is acting a plumb fool at home, fighting with Vera every chance he gets, and her crying at night for your father; we all cry but what I need is for you to pull it together. If you're thinking about trying to kill yourself again, then I'll have no choice but to send you back to Red Cave."

Red Cave is a mental institution in Sumter. One of the lowest of the lows with nurses that hate their jobs, doctors who'll gladly prescribe medication for patients merely suffering from homesickness, and therapists who hardly ever show up. She was there for months and vowed to never go back.

"I'm not thinking about that, Mom," she assures her with a forced smile. "Honestly, I'm just tired – and sad. I'll be okay."

"I hope so," Sheryl says with a sigh. Judith's grin doesn't falter as she watches her step away from the bed. "I'm gonna go powder my nose, then talk to your doctor about getting you out of here."

Judith nods with an affirming hum. She turns to face the exit, then walks out, shutting the door behind her. The corners of her strained lips drop, and tears accumulate on her lashes before slowly gliding down her cheeks.

***

Judith descends the stairs at three in the afternoon and finds Stevie sitting in front of the television. They're the only ones home since everyone else went to Piggly Wiggly. She walks toward him, and he glances at her then rolls his eyes onto the cartoon playing.

"Whatcha watchin'," she asks before following his gaze. A pale boy with short yellow hair and a turtleneck talks to another character off-screen.

"Jonny Quest," he answers with a dry tone. She sits beside him, and he groans. "What do you want, Judy?"

"I just want to spend time with you," she tells him. His cheeks puff and his nostrils flare as he breathes out his annoyance. "Mom told me you and Vera are fighting? Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I don't need a shrink." He glares at her, hoping to intimidate her into silence, but it's to no avail. As he returns his head forward, Judith pulls her lips into her mouth and licks them.

"She says you're mourning." He lifts the remote to his right and slowly clicks through the channels. "If you're suffering inside, talk to me; I tell you this so often."

"And I tell you often to leave me alone," Stevie says through clenched teeth with his brows furrowed and the remote clutched in his hand. He jumps off the chair, tosses it in her lap, then sprints toward the stairs. As he stomps to the next floor, her temples pulsate.

She clicks off the static screen, and after sifting through cartoons, she stops when she sees Jerome talking to someone behind the camera. Eric is to his left, and Manuel is to his right, the three of them smiling from ear to ear. They're wearing their grey university sweatshirts, but Manuel has a feather earring draping off his left earlobe.

"If your team wins, what're your plans with the money," the reporter asks – his Brooklyn accent thick and husky – and they look at Jerome. A red banner slides onto the bottom of the screen with their names and ages. Jerome's twenty-four, Manuel's twenty, and Eric's nineteen.

"Well, I'm using it to get a house near Timmonsville after I graduate. Thankfully I'm done in April," he says, then tucks his thumbs into the front loops of his jeans. Judith smiles, then leans forward in her seat.

"I'm getting a car. I've had my eyes on this sweet ride at Jace's auto shop: a moss-green Impala," Manuel answers with a confident head nod, smiling with his top row of teeth.

"Oh, I want a Monte Carlo, but I'll take whatever I can get." Eric chuckles at his response, then shifts his weight onto his right foot, allowing the camera to focus on Mary in the background. Her blonde hair is large and textured, as if she slept in braids and used hairspray. "But also I think I wanna put some to the side for my clothing store. I mostly wanna sell shoes; clogs, hush puppies, et cetera."

"Well, I can't speak for our audience, but as for me, I'll be crossing my fingers for you all." The banner fades away as they nod and share looks. Judith's eyes narrow through the blurriness of her vision, and she watches Mary throw her head back with laughter before sitting her right hand on the shoulder of whoever is hidden behind Jerome's chest. "Break a leg out there!"

They turn and follow Eric to the arcade stations near Mary as she leans in to kiss the faceless person. When they're out of her line of sight, Judith's stomach twists, and she gasps, though her mouth is shut. The sound escapes from her nostrils and resembles a wheeze. Mary's lips are against David's. His arms are around the small of her back, and hers are around his neck, trapping him close to her.

"Looks like some players are accepting good luck in – different ways." Watching them, she doesn't want to cry. Instead of sadness, she feels hot inside. Her heart is racing, and her hands are so tight around the edges of the remote that the color is draining from the pale of her palms. Her cheeks puff then deflate as she forces in sharp breaths.

"Stevie," Judith belts out a scream that, to her surprise, doesn't shatter the windows. She clicks the television off and stands up as he thunders down the stairs.

"What," he hollers back, his hands balled at his sides. Judith drops the remote onto her seat and faces him.

"Get your coat. We're going to Darlington," she tells him, and he stares at her with confusion evident in his dark brown eyes. "There's a Space Jungle tournament happening right now, and you and I are going. Get your coat!"

The corners of his lips lift as a smile brightens his aggravated face. Without a word, he darts upstairs. They grab their puffer coats, beanies, sneakers, and mittens before heading outside hand in hand.

"You got the key," he asks as they walk down the sidewalk, and she sighs from defeat. She'd locked the door and left her spare key in her drawer. "It's okay. I'm sure Ma will be here by the time it's all over."

They sit on the bench at the bus stop. She's sitting with her back straight, and he's slouching on the edge, his hands gripping the wooden surface on either side of his knees. He checks his Bradley Swiss Mickey Mouse watch for the time. It's nine-thirty at night.

"What time is the bus supposed to get here," he asks, and as if the question gave her an idea, she stands up then walks around him to face the blue sign. The bus doesn't run on Sundays. She curses under her breath, then huffs. "What's wrong?"

"The bus doesn't run today," she hesitantly tells him, and his eyes flare with fear. "I know, I know. I should've checked before dragging you out here."

He looks from left to right, seeing no one in sight through the darkness. "What if we walk?"

"It's too far." She returns to his side and wraps her arms around her torso. The wind whistles in her ears, and the temperature turns the tip of her nose red. She lifts her left arm when she feels the back of her throat itch, and she coughs into the crook of her sleeve.

"Maybe we should go to the Zip-lon up the road," he suggests in the form of a question, and they lock eyes.

"The gas station? I guess we could," she mumbles the statement when he nods in response. His eyes are full of desperation and the regret of agreeing to leave with her. "Okay. Come on."

Judith takes Stevie's hand, and they stand from the cold bench. They trek through the nippy climate, making their way out of the cul-de-sac with their heads hung to keep the wind out of their eyes.

After ten minutes of walking, they reach a gas station with neon lights flashing from the windows. A red Ford pickup truck is parked in front of the second fuel station, and as they step onto the lot, the driver returns the pump onto the hook. He clicks his lid shut and steps toward the driver's door.

"Wait," she calls for him, and Stevie veers his face to her, his eyebrows pulled together with a crease above his nose bridge. The white man stops with his right half in the vehicle, staring at them over the hood of his truck.

"Judy," Stevie whispers, but she doesn't hear him. She sprints toward the stranger, practically dragging her little brother like a kite in the breeze. She stops in front of his headlights, panting like a dog.

"I – we need a lift, please," she tells him, and he looks her from her afro to her shoes then back up. Her brother is staring at the man and shaking against her side from fear that she brushes off as him being cold. "Please, we need to go to Darlington. We can sit in the flatbed if you want."

"That won't be necessary." He smiles. Stevie grips her hand as tight as he can, his heart pounding in his ears and overpowering the voices telling him to turn back. Before he enters his truck, he says, "Hop on in!"

"Judy, wait!" She looks down at him when he yells and notices him breathing rapidly while staring downward. She follows his big eyes onto a blotch of crimson fluid staining the fender above the right tire. Shakily, he mutters, "Blood."

"Are you getting in or not," the man asks with his head out of his window, causing them to flinch and gasp upright. She glances at the building door and notices a woman behind the corner reading a magazine.

"No, thank you," Stevie tells him when she doesn't answer. He turns the key in the ignition, starting the engine as his headlights flash on. It illuminates their sweaty faces that he doesn't question. They watch him drive around them, and when he reaches the edge of the road, they dart toward the gas station's entrance.

The golden bell above the door chimes when they enter, and the clerk tosses her feet off the table holding a box television. Her dark wavy hair is drawn into a ponytail that swings with the slightest movement.

"Welcome to Zip-lon," she says, then stands from the chair. "What can I get 'ya?"

Elle is watching Happy Days with the volume low, and Judith glances at the screen just as Arthur Fonzarelli appears on camera.

"We need to use your phone," Stevie tells her. She sits the magazine on the television then mashes the register open. The loose change jingles as she retrieves two quarters.

"There's a payphone in the back." Elle extends her hand toward him, but Judith takes the money before he can. He follows her to the back of the store, the clerk watching them with many unanswered questions in her head.

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